Charred Wood eBook

The priest stood up and put his hand on Mark’s
shoulder. “Do you mean that, my boy?”

“I do,” replied Mark. “I told
you in Washington that I never passed an open church
door that my mind did not conjure up a beckoning hand
behind it, and that I knew that some day I should see
my mother’s face behind the hand. I have
seen the face. It was imagination, perhaps—­in
fact, I know it must have been—­but it was
mother’s face—­and I am coming home.”

The last words were spoken softly, reverently, and
together the priest and the penitent entered the church.

CHAPTER XXII

RUTH’S CONFESSION

Late that afternoon Mark sat alone in the great library
at Killimaga, his head thrown back, his hands grasping
the top of his chair. His thoughts were of the
future, and he did not hear the light footsteps behind
him. Then—­two soft arms stole lightly
around his neck, and Ruth’s beautiful head was
bowed until her lips touched his forehead. It
was a kiss of benediction, speaking of things too holy
for words.

He covered her hands with his own. “Ruth.”
The tones breathed a world of love.

“I am so happy,” she murmured.

He started to rise, but one small hand, escaping from
his grasp, rested on his head and held him firmly.

“I have a great deal to tell you, Mark.
But first I want you to know how happy I am that
you have come back to Mother Church. I have been
praying so hard, Mark, and I should have been miserable
had you refused to return. Our union would never
have been perfect without full harmony of thought,
and we might have drifted apart. But I am happy
now.” Lightly her fingers stroked his brow
and twined among his curls.

He arose and, clasping her hands in both his own,
he gazed down into her eyes.

“And I too am happy, dear one. You have
brought me two blessings: I have found not only
love, but peace at last after many years.”
Tenderly he raised her hands to his lips. “But
come, dear; it is too glorious a day to remain in
the house. Shall we go outside?”

It was but a moment till she returned ready for a
walk, and together they sauntered toward the bluff,
where she seated herself on a great rock. Sitting
at her feet, his head resting against the rock, his
hand raised to clasp hers, he was content. For
a while they sat in silence, gazing far out over the
sea into the glory of the sunset. At last she
loosed her hand from his grasp and rested it lightly
on his head.

“Mark, dear, you know that there are to be no
secrets between us two now, don’t you?”

He looked up and answered promptly. “Not
one—­not a single one, for all the days
of the future, my darling. But,” he added,
“I have none that are unrevealed.”

“I am not so fortunate, dear. I have a
great one, and now I am going to tell it all to you.”